Dirty....DIRTY!!!

I took Mandy, our hyper English Setter
for a walk – or more properly,
she took me for a drag in her
constant manic state as if tracking a cockbird -
coughing, wheezing and hacking
with a choke chain on.
 
We walk by Hamilton Park up
to Green Acres Park and on
South Main Street towards
East Texas Blvd on this
beautiful summer morning.
I was aged 12 with red hair,
freckles and a paper route.
 
Doggie and I are walking on the uneven
grayish-blue slate sidewalk slabs
and a mother and toddler walk towards us.
The diapered 2 year old on a leash
wants to pet the dog with on a leash.
With my red hair and freckles I
tug on the chain to get Mandy
to sit for the young boy to pet her.
 
The young boy  pets the dog,
then looks at me and
points his finger at my face
and begins saying, 
“Dirty,  dirty, DIRTY!”
I feel judged and shamed by this
little person.  The mother says,
“No honey, those are called freckles.”
 
Dirty?  I may be
spotted, smudged and spattered
with freckles, but I am not
unsanitary,  unwashed or begrimed.
The words make me feel
contaminated and ugly.
Freckles may be cute for
Pippy Longstocking,  but as a
pre-teenager boy – no thanks!
 
As we part, 
the child keeps saying –
“dirty, dirty, dirty!”
 
At least I 
don't wear diapers -
Professor Poopy Pants!